Northanger Alley
by RomanticabyMissJune
Summary: Now, tell me, what would you do, if Tom Hiddleston stood before, held out his hand to you, and asked you to go with him?


Alley ways are the same everywhere, I thought to myself as I turned into the dimly lit path that ran between the towering apartment buildings on Warden Road. It was utterly and thoroughly dark, save for the sliver of lazy yellow light that barely made an effort to reach into the alley. I pulled my thin black coat tighter around me, shivering a bit in November air. I was a little scared. I could hear the thud-thudding of my heart as loud as the soft whisper of my worn, comfortable sneakers.

Alleyways are the same everywhere. In London, Bruges or Bombay, alleys have same mysterious aura in the dark. They share the same morbidly beautiful space in between concrete and nostalgia. A space for forgotten things and discarded memories. They are like the secret thoughts of a city, a space in between the nocturnal incandescence of dreams and the diurnal decadence of reality. Perhaps it is only fitting, that I would meethim in this alley.  
I pull out my phone and check the time, a nervous habit, albeit one that somehow made me feel safer. Pointing the faint light from my screen ahead, I picked my way through the alley, walking deeper into the darkness. A few more steps and I would be out of the alley, and in my street. The air was cold, and a light wind wafted down, passing through my hair like a whisper. There was a comforting familiarity to this feeling, this cold wind, the darkness, the predictable path of this alley that I crossed through everyday.

I could see the light from the street, as I drew closer to the end of the alley.

In the sliver of lazy yellow light that barely made an effort to reach into alley, I saw him.

His silhouette, lean and long, framed by his messy long hair. The bored slouch of his shoulders as he leaned against the wall, half- wrapped in darkness, and half in light, like a beautiful chiaroscuro painting.

Who is that, I wondered, my feet pausing on the cobbled stone.

Should I keep walking, venturing past him, or should I run back the other way?

As I stood there, frozen to the spot, he slowly raised his head and turned it towards me. My heart leapt to my throat as I recognised him.

"Impossible…", I breathed as the full majesty of his face came into sight. Even in the half darkness, I could see his icy blue eyes. The kind of other worldly blue that belied his otherwise human appearance. I walked a little closer towards him, drawn by the absolute mystery and power of his presence.

"I've been waiting for you", he said.

I gasped as the low timbre of his voice hit my ears, and goosebumps blossomed all over my skin. It seemed as though the spell of his eyes was broken, and I realised that I had almost walked right up to him.

I drank in the sight of him, long legs clad in tight leather, a long, eclectic looking jacket, and then –

I gasped again.

Tom Hiddleston, I realised, was standing in front of me, shirtless. His jacket hung off his thin, wiry shoulders, exposing the pale alabaster skin of his chest to the undeserving caress of the street light.

"But, you…", I mumbled, still not believing that it could really be him. As if this British god, this utterly ravishingly charming man could be in my alley, in Bombay of all the places in the world.

"You're right darling, I am a god", he smirked, leaning back lazily against the wall.

He can read my thoughts?

"How did you do that?", I whispered, still lost in disbelief and slowly mounting panic.

I stood stock still, just staring at him – hoping that some logical answer would present itself.

"Come, enough of this!", he said suddenly, springing off the wall and towards me. He held his hand out for me to take, commandingly. My knees almost buckled at the sheer erotic authority in his voice, and in the way he held his body – more like the Loki character he plays, and less like his innocent, good-natured personality that I saw in his countless interviews on the telly. Who was this man?

He tapped his foot impatiently, beckoning impatiently with his outstretched hand.

"Come on darling", he purred, a hint of a smile teasing the curve of his lips.

Now, tell me, what would you do, if Loki stood before you, held out his hand to you, and asked you to go with him?

Slowly, I reach out towards him, placing my shaking hand in his. His big hands quickly closed around mine, carefully, as if he finally had something he had yearned for for so long.

I swallowed nervously, smiling at him a bit. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a softness in his eyes. As quick as it came, it was gone and then, in one swift motion, he pulled me clean toward him.

I shrieked, as my feet flew off the ground, and I crashed into his embrace. His arms came around me, catching me against his body. His delighted laugh rang off the cobbled stones, echoing through the dark alley.

As I caught my breath, I looked up at his face, inches away from mine. I could feel he hardness of his chest through the thin fabric of my shirt, and I was lost. He looked at me, his strong arms still crushing me to his impossibly beautiful body.

I had only dreamt of moments like this – to be in his arms. What fantasy was this? I tried to find the words to say something, anything at all –

"Shhhhh", he whispered, placing his finger on his lips – and I moaned softly, my knees finally giving away and I let myself be cradled against him. He looked every inch the Asgardian price just then.

"Come now pet, this is only the beginning. We have so much more to do together, you and I", he said.

I nodded weakly, wrapping my arms round his him.

He angled his face even closer to mine, till our lips were almost touching. My body felt like it was melting deliciously – his voice alone made my body erupt in pleasure. My skin sang where it touched it bare skin, and I inched closer to his lips.

Soft lips touched mine, kissing me with a tender hunger that drove me insane.

I felt the ground give way beneath my feet. I felt the wind in my hair, as if I were flying – and I did not care.

My lips parted as his tongue sort entry, and my hands wound into his hair. I kissed him with fervent devotion, pressing my body against his – I wanted him beyond measure, beyond madness. His tongue caressed my lips, teased my tongue and wreaked havoc with my sanity. A soft growl escaped my throat as I lost myself, nipping at his lips with my teeth. He chuckled against my lips, and kissed me again.

"We're only getting started, pet", he whispered.

I slowly opened my eyes, and look at him. He stood there, embracing me, enveloped in bright golden light.

Golden light? Where were we? And who was he – Loki or Tom, or some mad fantasy of my own invention?

I stepped back, pushing him away from me. As I spun around to see where I was, my breath caught in my throat once again.

Spread out in its decadent glory, with towering citadels, waterfalls and weaving bridges; bathed in rich, golden light, stood the shining city of Asgard.

To be continued….


End file.
